Doves and Peacocks

Not long after they had mutually agreed to secrecy, Aleigh and Ruthenia came to realise it was less than easy to maintain.

Should they stop spending their tea breaks together? Surely that was a source of many of the rumours, but they had decided not to give up their most consistent source of time together. Should they stop leaving school together? It was hard enough to come by time together. So they had allowed themselves that as well.

“As long as we are never caught on camera or in a recording,” said Aleigh at the cafeteria table, “engaging in such intimacies, or speaking words that amount to the same, then no one can publicise anything as fact.”

“I'll sign off on that,” Ruthenia replied, and then took a bite out of her stuffed bread while she stole glances at his novel over his arm.

Unsurprisingly, this maintenance of their habituated status quo did nothing for the whispers, which had already been brewing before Ruthenia's return from the Argenta Sea, and had only been stoked by their constant proximity ever since. But as long as they gave them nothing to work with, then rumours were all they would be.

The atmosphere in the New Town was fervent with the sort of buzz that preceded festivity or war. The week after Hollia's party, there was another chain of protests on the Helika streets, the marchers demanding the right to flight. Many of the capital's wealthy, it seemed, yearned for a time when the nation's disenfranchised had not been quite so bold, and others feared for those who stood up in so visible a fashion amid this ongoing upswell of police raids.

During this time, Aligon again took to challenging Aleigh's place in the council room, claiming his presence emboldened them. And the Arcane Prince's answer was always the same: I did not cause this. You have only your policies to blame. Still he played carefully, toeing the increasingly narrow line between Arcane respectability and outspoken rebellion.

Meanwhile the new Swift was built, a spitting image of the last. By then Sharmon had managed, with a catalyst discovered in Cin, to distill a fuel of ninety percent purity. Eldon was still serving out his time for charges that had not be lifted, though his incarceration had been reduced to a house arrest, and his lavish home made no meaningful prison. Meanwhile his mother had had the ruin eastern garden bed converted to a proper runway, in anticipation of their second flight.

Ruthenia had told Aleigh of the pattern of her weekly obligations. Conversely, her flight machine crew did not yet know—or at least Eldon and Sharmon did not—that the two were any closer than political affiliates.

So when they found Eldon's butler awaiting them outside the study, to inform them that the royal had visited the property in search of Ruthenia, there were a few pointed squints in her direction.

She felt her face burn up. Oh, I am having a word with you later. Reserving her exasperation to a sigh, she folded her arms. “What's wrong, can't a friend visit?” she muttered.

“He couldn't even wait for work to be over?” Tanio jabbed.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help wishing she hadn't missed him the first time, as they were led to their seats in the dining hall and served a roast pheasant on a silver platter.

Halfway through the first delighted exclamations at the quality of the roast, a bell rang up the hallway. Straightening, the butler excused himself. Ruthenia caught more squinting in her direction, although everyone now had their mouths full of pheasant.

Not long after, a maid hurried by the table and laid cutlery at the empty place between Tanio and Eldon.

It was not empty for long. The butler returned, and he was followed by Aleigh. Everyone stared as he greeted them with a dip of his head, but perhaps Ruthenia hardest of all. He rarely did his hair the way he had today, half of it in a braided loop around the back of his head, the rest hanging loose over his shoulders.

With as neutral an expression as he could muster, he said, “Good afternoon,” taking the seat, which was as far away from Ruthenia as it could be.

“A good afternoon to you too, Your Highness,” declared Eldon. “To what do we owe this visit?”

He blinked and glanced about the table, meeting her eye briefly. “Well, I heard you were meeting today, and I,” he said, “I wished to hear about your ongoing progress, that is all.”

“Ah, how kind of you to take an interest,” he replied. “You're our favourite supporter, if I do say so myself. Now, tell me if any of this is too dull for you, but today, our focus was on running some tests with the new fuel with the Swift's rebuilt engine…”

Ruthenia waited patiently as Eldon related the details in words far more succinct than she could ever have managed. Once or twice she met Aleigh's eye, and he offered the briefest smile, all while answering the secretary's remarks and questions his own.

At last, when Eldon had completed his rundown, he said, “That is all we achieved today, before we broke for lunch. How about you? Have you been well?”

“Quite well, yes,” Aleigh replied. “I am kept busy. It is bearable, only just, with all that is happening these days. But such is life, with the brother I have.”

“Oh, do I know it,” Eldon barked a laugh.

Ruthenia thought, briefly, that Aleigh seemed happier now than in the fledgling days of their friendship. It was in subtle ways—fewer glares and biting insults, a less thorny reticence—but perhaps she, too, had been paying more attention to his moods.

The conversation wandered on, and lately she could tell that with the others, he was playing a part, like an actor in a play, choosing his words meticulously.

As they were polishing off their plates, Aleigh rose from his seat. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said. As he did so—seemingly unwilling to blow their cover even now—he exchanged a quick look with Ruthenia that she returned helplessly.

“I hope the rest of your day treats you well,” Eldon replied, and then turned to Ruthenia. “And if you would like to leave as well, Miss Cendina, then by all means—do not let us keep you.”

“I mean, sure, I'll go soon,” she gasped.

By now Aleigh was halfway to the door. And this time, it was Tanio who called, “Scram, Ruth! You're all done with lunch, we'll take care of the plates!”

“Fine, fine!” she cried as her face lit up with heat. She leapt to her feet, dashing to the closing door.

They strode up the corridors with hasty step, past the study door and then up the stairs.

“Mm. This is not ideal,” said Aleigh without turning. “They seem to be catching on.”

Ruthenia folded her arms. “And whose idea was it to show up at my workplace unannounced?”

He sighed. “Can you blame me for wanting to see you when you were so close to home?”

She chuckled. “I suppose we do have to take whatever time we can get. But send me a message, at least?”

He laughed. “Fair enough. Maybe there are limits to how much spontaneity is tolerable.”

She elbowed him. “You're learning so well.”

At the top of the stairs, they slowed to a leisurely walk. They passed cases of silverware and rugs on walls, open windows through which the summer glowed, the grounds in bloom beneath them. At the sunlit parlour just before the landing deck, where the floor was shaded by lacy blinds, Aleigh finally came to a halt.

“You're here every Saturday?” he asked. “May I visit again next week?”

She grinned. “If we make a habit of it, we won't be able to hide from Tanio and the rest for long.”

“I doubt someone as close to you as Mister Calied could be kept in the dark for that long,” he replied.

“He does have a knack for putting two and two together.”

Watching how the lace shadows sprinkled light across the scene, and how Aleigh stood motionless among the darts of light as if wanting to vanish among them, she was taken by that strange fondness that still startled her when it pounced, and she smiled.

When his eyes met hers, that was all it took for them to fly together into the lee of the parlour entrance and begin making out.

It was only for a few seconds, before the thought that they were trying not to be found out caught up and they stepped apart again. Aleigh turned away as he adjusted his clothes, somehow still abashed whenever they kissed. Ruthenia grinned and tucked her hands into her pockets, rolling back on her feet.

They held hands to the door, and then let go as Ruthenia elbowed it open.

“So, next Saturday?” she asked. From here she glimpsed Benedice's shadow on the landing deck.

He beamed back—one of those rare unrestrained smiles that still set her heart thrumming. “I will write you this time,” he said.

All considered, they probably weren't fooling anyone. But at this point, plausible deniability was probably enough.